Today I had someone ask me if Jacob is going to be in kindergarten next year, and after I said yes she asked with a hint malice," Well, what are you going to do with yourself then?"
You see, I am a stay at home mom. Not because I believe I am better than anyone else, or find that though we have sacrificed greatly for me to stay at home with our babies that my sacrifices are greater than those of anyone else. I simply did what I thought was best for MY kids.
So many things ran through my mind in a matter of seconds. I want to snap back that I would probably CONTINUE to do the thousands of things I do every day, you know like laundry, cooking and general cleaning up for 4 other people. I would continue with the tedium of clipping coupons to scrimp since we are on one income, shopping for the best deals and sales to stretch our income, agonizing over bills and sticking to a budget to buy those groceries, spend bits and pieces of time with my kids, fretting over my jewelry business and struggling to make time for it... day dreaming about creating something with my hands like painting or drawing.
On top of all of those things struggling to get out of bed in the morning because of unbreakable cycle of insomnia... which makes my debilitating fibromyalgia pain and chronic fatigue syndrome much worse. Developing a new heart problem which contributes to the fatigue. Grappling with system crippling allergies that keep me locked inside on the most beautiful of days, and knowing that because of all of these illnesses that I can no longer work and contribute to supporting my family causing depression and anxiety. Knowing that if a dear friend of mine with most of the same illness as me (only worse) is having a hard time getting disability so my chances are very slim... hating that I once was a nurse but can no longer do the job I loved even if I really wanted to and that this was NOT how I planned the last half of my life going...
In mere moments I was knocked down and belittled, angry and confused as to why this person that I haven't seen in almost 6 months would want to verbally snipe me... if only she knew, CARED to retain or bothered to read my status updates, (though I guess honestly despite all this I try not complain on Facebook much because who wants to read that?).
I have been working in some capacity since I was 10 (family business, paper routes, ice cream stands, groceries stores all before I was 18), I have paid my dues as a productive member of society until 14 years ago when I became a stay at home mom. I don't deserve the implications that I sit on my ass all day eating fritos and watching soap operas.
I wanted to respond in kind, I wanted to hurt her back but as unhappy as I felt at that moment and have been feeling for over a year I realized she was probably so much more unhappy than me for wanting to make me feel less than for staying home with my kids at first by choice... and then later out of necessity for health reasons.
I did not glean an ounce of joy from realizing that she was more than likely jealous of the lifestyle she THOUGHT I was living. It didn't make me feel superior that she was most likely very unhappy.
I don't need to match someone else's guidelines or validate my choices... and I certainly do not matter less because I do not or can not hold a job outside of the home. Despite all my unhappiness and longings I still would have left a very lucrative job as a licensed practical nurse in California 14 years ago to move back to John's hometown in Iowa to stay at home to raise Anna myself. I matter, I have and will continue to make a difference if only for my family.
In those moments that probably only took up 30 seconds I replied with a slight smile, in a soft voice, "Yeah, who knows." I let it go.
Long story short (TL;DR) , not every circumstance is an opportunity to level the playing field. Sometimes we need to show a little kindness and walk in someone else's shoes. And sometimes the kindest thing we can do is keep our mouths shut. I really wish for a time when women lift and support one another instead of "sweeping the legs" out from under them Karate Kid style, for very personal choices and very valid reasons that are diminished to presumptions. I hope we can be kinder to each other as humans as a whole because we really never know what is going on behind closed doors and closed hearts.
Showing posts with label learning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label learning. Show all posts
Saturday, May 02, 2015
Monday, June 03, 2013
24 Years Ago
Sometimes it feels like 100 years ago, and sometimes it feels like just yesterday that I married my soul mate and love of my life.
Our 25+ years together has been bumpy, rocky and sometimes seemingly impassable, but here we are one year shy of our silver anniversary. I can only attribute that to the both of us growing into stronger and more forgiving people, and having faith.
Twenty-five years ago my mother told me we would never last. She blamed John for almost killing me after I was very near death from a tubal pregnancy. She sat my then fiance' down and told him I was damaged goods and he deserved better because I had been sexually abused- right in front of me like I wasn't even there, meanwhile John sat calmly and let her finish, then told her plainly that I had told him EVERYTHING about my childhood. Her sabotage didn't work, thank God, because I had been completely honest with him in our first week of dating.
She made me change my wedding date 4 different times because she had plans, unwilling to change her plans for my wedding. She took control of my wedding planning and told John he could only invite 15 people out of 250 invites because she was going to pay for the reception as a gift. She eventually threw me a wedding shower but then kept all the gifts that I had stored at their house while I was in the Navy, all because John argued that 15 people were not enough from his side. She cancelled the wedding reception, kept my shower gifts AND told me she had prayed and God told her she (and the rest of my family) wasn't allowed to go to the wedding... then lied to my brothers that because I was mad I had uninvited all of them.
My mother's pastor grudgingly held our wedding ceremony in a dirty church with small pieces of lint and paper scraps in the aisle, after my mother - I am sure- told him how I had been disrespectful to her. He didn't look at me a single time during the wedding ceremony, which was certainly rushed and maybe lasted 10-15 minutes. He glanced at John a few times but only looked over my head.
None of my immediate family came to our wedding, but my mother's sister and her family came, including my aunt's in-laws who let us call them "granny" and "gramps" as kids. My art teacher from high school came, I was and still am so very touched she would do that for me. We had navy friends there, and John had quite a few family members that flew and drove from Iowa and Virginia. I had my great grandmother and some high school friends who showed up for me as well.
We had about maybe 40 people show up to our wedding, but some of the guests did not go to the reception. All in all, we spent 1000.00 for our wedding, my off the rack wedding dress costing just under half of that. The rest was spent on flowers, a 2 tier wedding cake and flowers we ordered from a grocery store, and John and his brother's tuxedo rentals. Luckily a family friend and mom of one of my high school classmates had heard about how my mother had treated us and she graciously approached John and I about having our reception at her house near her pool, and she and another family friend bought and cooked the food for us for a measly 100.00. What a blessing that was!
When it came time for the wedding to begin, I almost had a nervous breakdown because John decided that arriving 5 minutes before the ceremony was supposed to start was completely appropriate! I figured after all the craziness he has experienced from my family during our 11 month engagement, he had probably gotten cold feet.
I still missed having my family there, but was very thankful for the family that did show up; my aunt and her family, and my art teacher- who secretly I had always wished had been my cool and quirky mom. I was very blessed to have had a father-in-law who had been sweet enough to ask me if he could walk me down the aisle, even though we hadn't met yet.
The first 25 years of our relationship- just like our wedding day- has been bitter sweet, but mostly sweet. I willingly give my husband most of the credit, though. He knows how genuinely messed up I am and loves me despite all of it. He knows me like no other, he knows all of my dark secrets. Every. Single. One. And I am almost positive that I know all of his. We are both damaged from our childhoods. Sometimes we can be rough around the edges but we manage to love each other through it, because we see value in all that we have conquered in the past.
What makes our relationship continue to grow despite rough patches? I think it's because our valleys have been so low at times that it makes the high points that much higher. It's the bitter in the bittersweet that makes it all that much richer and sweeter.
My younger brother told me a few years ago that considering I was the black sheep of the family, he had always thought that I would be the one married 3 times with all sorts of kids. We both had a good laugh out of that since he and my older brother have both been married 3 times each, and here I am chugging along in my imperfect but lengthy marriage.
From meager and troubled beginnings we came... A 19 year old bride and a 21 year old groom.We were talking last night in bed, just an hour into our official 24th anniversary. Looking back, we would have still kept our wedding small if it meant we would do it our way, on our terms.
OR used that 1000.00 to get married in Vegas. *wink*
To my husband, The Male Income Support Unit:
I love you, John. Thank you for loving me when I was unlovable, forgiving me when I was unforgivable, and for understanding my crazy from it's deepest roots. Thank you for giving me 3 adorable kids and 25 years.
The first 25 years have been a doozy... I can't wait to see where we go from here! All I can say is it better not involve me getting pregnant again.
Love,
Me
Our 25+ years together has been bumpy, rocky and sometimes seemingly impassable, but here we are one year shy of our silver anniversary. I can only attribute that to the both of us growing into stronger and more forgiving people, and having faith.
Twenty-five years ago my mother told me we would never last. She blamed John for almost killing me after I was very near death from a tubal pregnancy. She sat my then fiance' down and told him I was damaged goods and he deserved better because I had been sexually abused- right in front of me like I wasn't even there, meanwhile John sat calmly and let her finish, then told her plainly that I had told him EVERYTHING about my childhood. Her sabotage didn't work, thank God, because I had been completely honest with him in our first week of dating.
She made me change my wedding date 4 different times because she had plans, unwilling to change her plans for my wedding. She took control of my wedding planning and told John he could only invite 15 people out of 250 invites because she was going to pay for the reception as a gift. She eventually threw me a wedding shower but then kept all the gifts that I had stored at their house while I was in the Navy, all because John argued that 15 people were not enough from his side. She cancelled the wedding reception, kept my shower gifts AND told me she had prayed and God told her she (and the rest of my family) wasn't allowed to go to the wedding... then lied to my brothers that because I was mad I had uninvited all of them.
My mother's pastor grudgingly held our wedding ceremony in a dirty church with small pieces of lint and paper scraps in the aisle, after my mother - I am sure- told him how I had been disrespectful to her. He didn't look at me a single time during the wedding ceremony, which was certainly rushed and maybe lasted 10-15 minutes. He glanced at John a few times but only looked over my head.
None of my immediate family came to our wedding, but my mother's sister and her family came, including my aunt's in-laws who let us call them "granny" and "gramps" as kids. My art teacher from high school came, I was and still am so very touched she would do that for me. We had navy friends there, and John had quite a few family members that flew and drove from Iowa and Virginia. I had my great grandmother and some high school friends who showed up for me as well.
We had about maybe 40 people show up to our wedding, but some of the guests did not go to the reception. All in all, we spent 1000.00 for our wedding, my off the rack wedding dress costing just under half of that. The rest was spent on flowers, a 2 tier wedding cake and flowers we ordered from a grocery store, and John and his brother's tuxedo rentals. Luckily a family friend and mom of one of my high school classmates had heard about how my mother had treated us and she graciously approached John and I about having our reception at her house near her pool, and she and another family friend bought and cooked the food for us for a measly 100.00. What a blessing that was!
When it came time for the wedding to begin, I almost had a nervous breakdown because John decided that arriving 5 minutes before the ceremony was supposed to start was completely appropriate! I figured after all the craziness he has experienced from my family during our 11 month engagement, he had probably gotten cold feet.
I still missed having my family there, but was very thankful for the family that did show up; my aunt and her family, and my art teacher- who secretly I had always wished had been my cool and quirky mom. I was very blessed to have had a father-in-law who had been sweet enough to ask me if he could walk me down the aisle, even though we hadn't met yet.
The first 25 years of our relationship- just like our wedding day- has been bitter sweet, but mostly sweet. I willingly give my husband most of the credit, though. He knows how genuinely messed up I am and loves me despite all of it. He knows me like no other, he knows all of my dark secrets. Every. Single. One. And I am almost positive that I know all of his. We are both damaged from our childhoods. Sometimes we can be rough around the edges but we manage to love each other through it, because we see value in all that we have conquered in the past.
What makes our relationship continue to grow despite rough patches? I think it's because our valleys have been so low at times that it makes the high points that much higher. It's the bitter in the bittersweet that makes it all that much richer and sweeter.
My younger brother told me a few years ago that considering I was the black sheep of the family, he had always thought that I would be the one married 3 times with all sorts of kids. We both had a good laugh out of that since he and my older brother have both been married 3 times each, and here I am chugging along in my imperfect but lengthy marriage.
From meager and troubled beginnings we came... A 19 year old bride and a 21 year old groom.We were talking last night in bed, just an hour into our official 24th anniversary. Looking back, we would have still kept our wedding small if it meant we would do it our way, on our terms.
OR used that 1000.00 to get married in Vegas. *wink*
To my husband, The Male Income Support Unit:
I love you, John. Thank you for loving me when I was unlovable, forgiving me when I was unforgivable, and for understanding my crazy from it's deepest roots. Thank you for giving me 3 adorable kids and 25 years.
The first 25 years have been a doozy... I can't wait to see where we go from here! All I can say is it better not involve me getting pregnant again.
Love,
Me
Thursday, February 07, 2013
12
My baby is going to be 12 in 21 days. TWELVE.
My oldest child... the beginning of something truly beautiful, a new phase of my life that I thought I would never be lucky enough to experience.
It's been gritty and tortuous being a parent, and at other times soulful and stomach-hugging hilarious.
Today, I realized that my oldest child is so much like me, so much more than I had ever realized. I mean, I had always thought she looked a little more like me and we share a eerily similar sense of humor. We inflect on words the same, and our laughs can be the same growly, bark of a laugh or nearly the same hysterical howl. We share almost the exact same nose, and we both feel the same dread over the size.
But beyond all of that, while we talked about friendships, I could see the person she is becoming. At some point we were both exasperated and my eyes were opened, as I forced myself to listen more instead pontificating aloud, sharing my "refined" wisdom as an adult.
As I admitted to her that I didn't know everything I saw something click in my daughter, as if those were the words she had been longing me to say since her existence.
I stopped for a moment and told her that all I ever want for her in life is to do good, and not make the same mistakes I did. My words are meant as a cautionary tale, never judgement. I want to give my kids all the things my mother didn't like sound advice and a bent ear... understanding.
We had an honest talk about a friendship she has that has turned sour, and this person is no longer viewed through rose colored glasses and Anna is finally seeing her for who she really is: a mean spirited brat who enjoys humiliating and bullying others. Now that Anna has rekindled a friendship from grade school- who this mean little bully does not like- now the bully has caught my daughter in her icy glare. Anna has now been bullied.
Don't weep for my child, make no mistake... my daughter is strong in will and most of the time character. I am proud of her for standing up to this miserable little person, and for standing her ground.
She is a bit hard headed like her dad's side of the family, and she can be a little tender under her hard shell... both of which she gets from me I think. It hurts me to see her frustration (and hurt, though she refuses to admit it), but I laid out the options/choices ahead of her in this situation.
1. The obvious backstabbing and dirtying of the name of said person, justified by tales of all the ways this person has hurt her... which NEVER ends well and ALWAYS backfires.
2. Stay neutral and continue to defend herself while faking her way through this botched "friendship".
3. MOVE ON. Leave it all behind and enjoy those people who really truly are her friends.
She did say midway through our talk that she had just had the realization, "Why am I bothering to be friends with her?"
So if nothing hopefully she now understands that confiding in her mom can be cathartic and therapeutic, and that I am an ally and not the enemy.
And maybe, just maybe she realizes that I do pretty much know what I am talking about. Most of the time.
Usually.
I learned today that it's not such a bad thing that we are so much alike.
I hope that one day she realizes it too.
Peace,
Mary
My oldest child... the beginning of something truly beautiful, a new phase of my life that I thought I would never be lucky enough to experience.
It's been gritty and tortuous being a parent, and at other times soulful and stomach-hugging hilarious.
Today, I realized that my oldest child is so much like me, so much more than I had ever realized. I mean, I had always thought she looked a little more like me and we share a eerily similar sense of humor. We inflect on words the same, and our laughs can be the same growly, bark of a laugh or nearly the same hysterical howl. We share almost the exact same nose, and we both feel the same dread over the size.
But beyond all of that, while we talked about friendships, I could see the person she is becoming. At some point we were both exasperated and my eyes were opened, as I forced myself to listen more instead pontificating aloud, sharing my "refined" wisdom as an adult.
As I admitted to her that I didn't know everything I saw something click in my daughter, as if those were the words she had been longing me to say since her existence.
I stopped for a moment and told her that all I ever want for her in life is to do good, and not make the same mistakes I did. My words are meant as a cautionary tale, never judgement. I want to give my kids all the things my mother didn't like sound advice and a bent ear... understanding.
We had an honest talk about a friendship she has that has turned sour, and this person is no longer viewed through rose colored glasses and Anna is finally seeing her for who she really is: a mean spirited brat who enjoys humiliating and bullying others. Now that Anna has rekindled a friendship from grade school- who this mean little bully does not like- now the bully has caught my daughter in her icy glare. Anna has now been bullied.
Don't weep for my child, make no mistake... my daughter is strong in will and most of the time character. I am proud of her for standing up to this miserable little person, and for standing her ground.
She is a bit hard headed like her dad's side of the family, and she can be a little tender under her hard shell... both of which she gets from me I think. It hurts me to see her frustration (and hurt, though she refuses to admit it), but I laid out the options/choices ahead of her in this situation.
1. The obvious backstabbing and dirtying of the name of said person, justified by tales of all the ways this person has hurt her... which NEVER ends well and ALWAYS backfires.
2. Stay neutral and continue to defend herself while faking her way through this botched "friendship".
3. MOVE ON. Leave it all behind and enjoy those people who really truly are her friends.
She did say midway through our talk that she had just had the realization, "Why am I bothering to be friends with her?"
So if nothing hopefully she now understands that confiding in her mom can be cathartic and therapeutic, and that I am an ally and not the enemy.
And maybe, just maybe she realizes that I do pretty much know what I am talking about. Most of the time.
Usually.
I learned today that it's not such a bad thing that we are so much alike.
I hope that one day she realizes it too.
Peace,
Mary
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Free to be...Part Two
Oh hi! You came back!
My last post was something. If you haven't read it yet I will just say that this post will make much more sense if ya do.
Basically to summarize I recently realized that I need a little compassion in my life, compassion for others in my heart... manifested in actions and words.
I consider myself an OK person... sometimes a pretty decent human. Giving my time and things, sometimes an ear to people brings me joy. What I realized the other day was that though I love to give, I have not always been a great example as far compassion goes.
How can I expect people (including my children) to have compassion for me if I have little or none to give?
I think that having learned humor and sarcasm to deflect pain and to cope has a lot to do with that. Not to go back into it but yes, my childhood kinda sucked. I survived with laughter. My younger brother Ben and I made each other laugh.
A lot. By doing some really dorky things.
I believe that when one is broken down and is focusing on a singular thing such as survival... It can in some cases make you a feral animal. There's a smile on my face but if you look closer you realized that I am actually baring my teeth with sarcastic humor. It's not a smile at all.
The other day I decided I needed to be more compassionate in the midst of praying in the shower. Instead of asking for less pain or a miracle healing, I thanked Him for what I do have. In gratitude, with an open heart the truth was laid bare. Maybe I needed that gratitude, that softened heart to receive this message... and in this way I am choosing to learn from this experience.
I actually prayed to be more compassionate that day. I show love and care for the people I am closest to, sure. Heaven forbid you be a stranger and your bad day affects me, though. YOWZA. My husband has been known to leave my vicinity when things get ugly and I have and angry outburst because someone almost runs my kid over with their cart, or cuts in front of me in line.
Anger and sarcastic humor is a language all on it's own. I told my husband I only speak 2 languages, and English is the other. Compassion is not a language that is native to me. I understand a few words and phrases that might amount to the basics like "Where is the bathroom" or "My shoes are blue"... and probably all the curse words.
Compassion is devoid of sarcasm. They cannot really exist in the same space without causing a time/space paradox. ;) See? I cannot even talk about compassion right now without being sarcastic. Admitting you have a problem is the first step, right?
I believe that you can love someone at a core level, you know it in every fiber of your being. Showing compassion is something else entirely. Compassion is not reserved for just the ones we love, either. I read blog post at Kind Over Matter recently (cannot remember the title) where she chanted a mantra in the face of adversity, "I don't know what you're going through".
And amazingly a link to Kind Over Matter was delivered to my inbox. Coincidence? I don't think so. It said:
—
Daniel Goleman
Compassion through repetition, grace through practice.
It's a good place to start.
While learning this new language, I might slip up... fall short... chip a tooth. The possibilities are endless. It's all new to me, being mindfully compassionate instead of a little compassion by way giving. I apologize in advance if I sound like this, I'll do better next time... I promise.
Enjoy :)
My last post was something. If you haven't read it yet I will just say that this post will make much more sense if ya do.
Basically to summarize I recently realized that I need a little compassion in my life, compassion for others in my heart... manifested in actions and words.
I consider myself an OK person... sometimes a pretty decent human. Giving my time and things, sometimes an ear to people brings me joy. What I realized the other day was that though I love to give, I have not always been a great example as far compassion goes.
How can I expect people (including my children) to have compassion for me if I have little or none to give?
I think that having learned humor and sarcasm to deflect pain and to cope has a lot to do with that. Not to go back into it but yes, my childhood kinda sucked. I survived with laughter. My younger brother Ben and I made each other laugh.
A lot. By doing some really dorky things.
I believe that when one is broken down and is focusing on a singular thing such as survival... It can in some cases make you a feral animal. There's a smile on my face but if you look closer you realized that I am actually baring my teeth with sarcastic humor. It's not a smile at all.
The other day I decided I needed to be more compassionate in the midst of praying in the shower. Instead of asking for less pain or a miracle healing, I thanked Him for what I do have. In gratitude, with an open heart the truth was laid bare. Maybe I needed that gratitude, that softened heart to receive this message... and in this way I am choosing to learn from this experience.
I actually prayed to be more compassionate that day. I show love and care for the people I am closest to, sure. Heaven forbid you be a stranger and your bad day affects me, though. YOWZA. My husband has been known to leave my vicinity when things get ugly and I have and angry outburst because someone almost runs my kid over with their cart, or cuts in front of me in line.
Anger and sarcastic humor is a language all on it's own. I told my husband I only speak 2 languages, and English is the other. Compassion is not a language that is native to me. I understand a few words and phrases that might amount to the basics like "Where is the bathroom" or "My shoes are blue"... and probably all the curse words.
Compassion is devoid of sarcasm. They cannot really exist in the same space without causing a time/space paradox. ;) See? I cannot even talk about compassion right now without being sarcastic. Admitting you have a problem is the first step, right?
I believe that you can love someone at a core level, you know it in every fiber of your being. Showing compassion is something else entirely. Compassion is not reserved for just the ones we love, either. I read blog post at Kind Over Matter recently (cannot remember the title) where she chanted a mantra in the face of adversity, "I don't know what you're going through".
And amazingly a link to Kind Over Matter was delivered to my inbox. Coincidence? I don't think so. It said:
Self-absorption in all its forms kills empathy, let alone compassion. When we focus on ourselves, our world contracts as our problems and preoccupations loom large. But when we focus on others, our world expands. Our own problems drift to the periphery of the mind and so seem smaller, and we increase our capacity for connection -- or compassionate action.
Daniel Goleman
Compassion through repetition, grace through practice.
It's a good place to start.
While learning this new language, I might slip up... fall short... chip a tooth. The possibilities are endless. It's all new to me, being mindfully compassionate instead of a little compassion by way giving. I apologize in advance if I sound like this, I'll do better next time... I promise.
Enjoy :)
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Free to be...Part One
Here I am. I just am, nothing more... nothing less. Is that it, really*?
*Hang on for a minute and take a little journey with me. I know I am going to upset a few people, the journey may get a little cloudy but I assure you there is a patch of sunshine waiting just over the ridge. Ready? Take my hand... I'm moving slower these days. I promise I wont go any faster than what the terrain calls for.
I was in the shower this morning thinking about how my life has changed since almost 2 weeks ago; peaks and valleys of mood, state of body and mind being so interconnected. I am finding things that are working a little for me and I am willing to accept that. I am open to these brief windows of being of less pain but not painless. I gave up on that notion a long time ago.
My mind wandered to that phrase[s] that has bothered me so much in my life.
"All things happen for a reason."
"There is a reason why you are going through this, it's to teach you something."
"God never gives us more than we can handle."
The one that really gets to me was stated by Oprah, "I trust that everything happens for a reason, even when we're not wise enough to see it."
I cannot believe this to be true. I was once an Oprah-phile. That statement was the beginning of the end for me. I do not, cannot believe that God intended for all the horrible things that have happened in my life. I refuse to believe that he looked through time and decided that I would be sexually abused, physically and emotionally tormented by the ones who were supposed to care for me.
The flaw in this thinking- if you dare to consider it that way- is that it takes away accountability to the perpetrators. It points the finger at a God I would not want to love, or expect love from. Why would I trust in a God like that? But ultimately there is no free will in that line of thought
Whether or not you believe in a god, or my God... this thinking is destructive. It's passive and is almost an invitation for bad things to happen. "Que sera sera".
So I guess this means that I don't believe in destiny or fate. Logically,if my choices are already predestined and predertmined then they cannot be choices. I should be an unfeeling robot, waiting for life to happen since I would then really have no choice.
But I do.
I thought about how much all those phrases bothered me, and pondered the fact that despite detesting the very core of all of those blurbs... I am learning something from this experience. But I am choosing to.
I could waste my days crying over this new obstacle, this fallen tree in my path. I could choose to collapse against it's insurmountable weight . Or I can choose to grab at one of those branches beside me and pull myself up, and look for ways around it to get back to the road I am choosing to take.
In a matter of a few minutes I had all these thoughts swirling around me.
Today, despite all that this illness entails... I am choosing to have a good day. I choose to be a compassionate human being in the face of my own adversities. I am going to choose to pay forward a heart full of gratitude, to sacrifice my own self pity in hopes that what tries to disable my body will not disable my heart and all that I have to offer.
I am choosing to be, rather than just I am.
Stay tuned for part two, it's gonna be a doozey! :D
*Hang on for a minute and take a little journey with me. I know I am going to upset a few people, the journey may get a little cloudy but I assure you there is a patch of sunshine waiting just over the ridge. Ready? Take my hand... I'm moving slower these days. I promise I wont go any faster than what the terrain calls for.
I was in the shower this morning thinking about how my life has changed since almost 2 weeks ago; peaks and valleys of mood, state of body and mind being so interconnected. I am finding things that are working a little for me and I am willing to accept that. I am open to these brief windows of being of less pain but not painless. I gave up on that notion a long time ago.
My mind wandered to that phrase[s] that has bothered me so much in my life.
"All things happen for a reason."
"There is a reason why you are going through this, it's to teach you something."
"God never gives us more than we can handle."
The one that really gets to me was stated by Oprah, "I trust that everything happens for a reason, even when we're not wise enough to see it."
I cannot believe this to be true. I was once an Oprah-phile. That statement was the beginning of the end for me. I do not, cannot believe that God intended for all the horrible things that have happened in my life. I refuse to believe that he looked through time and decided that I would be sexually abused, physically and emotionally tormented by the ones who were supposed to care for me.
The flaw in this thinking- if you dare to consider it that way- is that it takes away accountability to the perpetrators. It points the finger at a God I would not want to love, or expect love from. Why would I trust in a God like that? But ultimately there is no free will in that line of thought
Whether or not you believe in a god, or my God... this thinking is destructive. It's passive and is almost an invitation for bad things to happen. "Que sera sera".
So I guess this means that I don't believe in destiny or fate. Logically,if my choices are already predestined and predertmined then they cannot be choices. I should be an unfeeling robot, waiting for life to happen since I would then really have no choice.
But I do.
I thought about how much all those phrases bothered me, and pondered the fact that despite detesting the very core of all of those blurbs... I am learning something from this experience. But I am choosing to.
I could waste my days crying over this new obstacle, this fallen tree in my path. I could choose to collapse against it's insurmountable weight . Or I can choose to grab at one of those branches beside me and pull myself up, and look for ways around it to get back to the road I am choosing to take.
In a matter of a few minutes I had all these thoughts swirling around me.
Today, despite all that this illness entails... I am choosing to have a good day. I choose to be a compassionate human being in the face of my own adversities. I am going to choose to pay forward a heart full of gratitude, to sacrifice my own self pity in hopes that what tries to disable my body will not disable my heart and all that I have to offer.
I am choosing to be, rather than just I am.
Stay tuned for part two, it's gonna be a doozey! :D
Sunday, November 30, 2008
I put the "F U" in fun
Black Friday and holiday shopping fun, yes? This year not so much. What's with the killing of the people?The stampeding and gunfire? Are you kidding me?
Let me just say that though I have on occasion imagined myself bludgeoning someone while out rubbing elbows with people that I like to refer to as "rude, morally-bankrupt animals", I would never.... NEVER resort to violence outside of daydreaming when faced with not getting something that I want.
Is this what we have come to?
How does it make sense that a season, first and foremost named as the season of GIVING, should cause such hostility and homicidal tendencies? Oh, right. Christmas is no longer Merry Christmas... but XMAS, Happy Holidays, etc, etc, etc. 'Tis the season of give me more, because if you don't , you're a bad parent/child/sibling/grandchild and you don't really love me-me-me-me-me.
I will admit that I have been guilty of commercialism, of going over board because I want my kids to have all the things that I didn't, and I have come to realize that by doing so I have created mini monsters who play with new toys for about a week then grow bored of them. Lesson learned. We have scaled waaaaay back on gift giving for any holiday, and we donate the things no longer played with, the ones that are collecting dust.
It has been a painful process, realizing all that has been compromised... my children's egos, my wallet, and the core of our souls. No thing can make my kids love me, and no trinket can show them how much I love them. That is up to me, and up to them. I thank God that my husband and I have come to this realization before it was too late.
Oh, I'm sure we might get the "I'm looking for more presents underneath the ripped and tattered remains of what probably amounts to 3 trees" , and even a small "is that it?" look from at least one of my ankle biters... but we'll get there. Baby steps, people. ;)
But honestly? I'm not sure I want to buy into a holiday that has been tainted with sacrificial blood. Maybe I will opt out next year. Maybe the 25th of each month will be cause for celebration, and maybe, just maybe we can celebrate the true meaning of Christmas every day of every single year without killing someone.
That would be swell.
OK, I'm jumping off of my soapbox now, and I'll leave you with this thought (OK, I'm only standing with one foot on the soap box right now):
This being my first year of retail hell ( I work at the Tar-jay), I would emplore all of the lovely shoppers out there to at least try to put something back in its original spot. If you don't want it? Ya know what? Take it to the register anyway and say these eleven magical words.
"I don't want this, can you put this back for me?"
Those eleven mystical and magical words would reduce hundreds of thousands of man hours of hunting what we like to call reshops from the candy aisle and eventually returning it to the lingerie section.
What does that mean for you you might ask? Lower cost, better savings.
And me, not mentally flipping you the bird. Just a thought.
Hugs and kisses,
~mert
Let me just say that though I have on occasion imagined myself bludgeoning someone while out rubbing elbows with people that I like to refer to as "rude, morally-bankrupt animals", I would never.... NEVER resort to violence outside of daydreaming when faced with not getting something that I want.
Is this what we have come to?
How does it make sense that a season, first and foremost named as the season of GIVING, should cause such hostility and homicidal tendencies? Oh, right. Christmas is no longer Merry Christmas... but XMAS, Happy Holidays, etc, etc, etc. 'Tis the season of give me more, because if you don't , you're a bad parent/child/sibling/grandchild and you don't really love me-me-me-me-me.
I will admit that I have been guilty of commercialism, of going over board because I want my kids to have all the things that I didn't, and I have come to realize that by doing so I have created mini monsters who play with new toys for about a week then grow bored of them. Lesson learned. We have scaled waaaaay back on gift giving for any holiday, and we donate the things no longer played with, the ones that are collecting dust.
It has been a painful process, realizing all that has been compromised... my children's egos, my wallet, and the core of our souls. No thing can make my kids love me, and no trinket can show them how much I love them. That is up to me, and up to them. I thank God that my husband and I have come to this realization before it was too late.
Oh, I'm sure we might get the "I'm looking for more presents underneath the ripped and tattered remains of what probably amounts to 3 trees" , and even a small "is that it?" look from at least one of my ankle biters... but we'll get there. Baby steps, people. ;)
But honestly? I'm not sure I want to buy into a holiday that has been tainted with sacrificial blood. Maybe I will opt out next year. Maybe the 25th of each month will be cause for celebration, and maybe, just maybe we can celebrate the true meaning of Christmas every day of every single year without killing someone.
That would be swell.
OK, I'm jumping off of my soapbox now, and I'll leave you with this thought (OK, I'm only standing with one foot on the soap box right now):
This being my first year of retail hell ( I work at the Tar-jay), I would emplore all of the lovely shoppers out there to at least try to put something back in its original spot. If you don't want it? Ya know what? Take it to the register anyway and say these eleven magical words.
"I don't want this, can you put this back for me?"
Those eleven mystical and magical words would reduce hundreds of thousands of man hours of hunting what we like to call reshops from the candy aisle and eventually returning it to the lingerie section.
What does that mean for you you might ask? Lower cost, better savings.
And me, not mentally flipping you the bird. Just a thought.
Hugs and kisses,
~mert
Monday, June 30, 2008
And now... your moment of Zen.
A few days ago Emma was giving me lip after I told her to do something (I really can't remember what it was), and asked why she needed to do whatever I asked her to at that time.
Me: Why? 'Cuz I'm the boss, that's why.
Anna, with her arms crossed and a smug look on her face: You know... you can be the boss without being bossy.
Me, walking away so she can't see me trying not to laugh, all the while enjoying that fact that she stuck up for lil' sis: Wow, that was deep. How very philosophical of you, thanks for sharing.
Me: Why? 'Cuz I'm the boss, that's why.
Anna, with her arms crossed and a smug look on her face: You know... you can be the boss without being bossy.
Me, walking away so she can't see me trying not to laugh, all the while enjoying that fact that she stuck up for lil' sis: Wow, that was deep. How very philosophical of you, thanks for sharing.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
What a gem ;) OR Happy Mother's Day to me
Last Friday Anna went to a children's museum some 45 minutes away from, for a field trip with her first grade class. As always (I had trouble sleeping the night before, and) I had a talk with her about general safety and what was acceptable and unacceptable.
Did I happen to mention that I am neurotic? It couldn't possibly have anything to do with the nightmare I had the night before about Anna coming home from the museum and telling us that a stranger had harmed her.
Anyway... this is the talk we always have when she will be away from us, or when we go anywhere that is a good distance away from home, especially if there will be a lot of people.
I can't help but be this way because I know what dangers lurk around every corner. For me , as a child, they lurked in the very corners of my own home and I guess this makes me a little over protective. I know that when she gets a bit older I will have to trust that I have taught her as best as I could, and send her on her way with a few "gentle" reminders. ;)
Just as she walked out of the door for school, I said a prayer for her and her class. I asked that God keep them all safe from... "them", the sick and twisted people that live just to hurt children. I prayed that they be surrounded by so many angels that they would be invisible to "them".
The day went by very slowly for me, but Anna did eventually come home. I asked her happily, after giving her a hug, how the day went. We sat down on the couch together to snuggle.
"Well, I didn't... It wasn't very much...'" she sputtered as she teared up. "I-," She began as she turned away from me in embarrassment.
"Anna, it's ok... calm down. You don't have to be embarrassed, you can tell me anything. Remember how many times I have told you the embarrassing things that have happened to me?" Anna nodded, slowly turning towards me as I put my arm around her. "You can always talk to mommy and daddy, no matter how embarrassing or upsetting it may be. Even if you are in big trouble, please always talk to us about it. OK?"
She nodded again. "I didn't have a very good time at the museum," she said as she choked back tears," I was home sick."
I breathed a sigh of relief. "It's OK, I think most kids are a bit nervous on their first field trip that far away from home. You didn't have fun at all?"
She settled in and relaxed against me,"No, not until we went outside to play on the museum play ground."
"That's OK," I said as I patted her," At least you had a little fun."
"Well, I had fun buying my mood ring too," she smiled up at me.
We sat for awhile , snuggling while watching the Food Network. I had a sudden realization that usually in our world being sensitive was viewed as having a weakness. How many times have we heard ourselves or someone else say to their child " Stop being such a baby"? "Stop being a drama queen" or "grow up"? I can't count how many times my own mother made me feel like I was less than human for crying or being sad over something she had said or done to me.
"You know Anna... feeling this way isn't a bad thing. I mean being sensitive or the fact that you were feeling home sick. It just means that you feel things deeply." I thought about all of the thousands of times she seemed to have overreacted, or played the "drama queen" over the span of her 7 years and smiled. There was no middle ground with this girl for the most part. She experienced things at the highest highs and the lowest lows, and I smiled again to myself.
I gave her another squeeze, "You are one of the strongest people I have ever met. You're smart, beautiful, funny... you're like a diamond. You know how a diamond has little cuts in it? Those are called facets. Each one of your facets- or the little things about you, including being sensitive- make up the whole you... a beautiful little diamond."
She looked up at me and lit up with such a brilliance that words fail to adequately describe it.
Being sensitive and feeling things deeply isn't anymore flawed than a diamond that is pink or canary yellow. Those diamonds are actually valued more for their rarity and color.
I choose to see my girl for the rare and priceless gem that she is.
Did I happen to mention that I am neurotic? It couldn't possibly have anything to do with the nightmare I had the night before about Anna coming home from the museum and telling us that a stranger had harmed her.
Anyway... this is the talk we always have when she will be away from us, or when we go anywhere that is a good distance away from home, especially if there will be a lot of people.
I can't help but be this way because I know what dangers lurk around every corner. For me , as a child, they lurked in the very corners of my own home and I guess this makes me a little over protective. I know that when she gets a bit older I will have to trust that I have taught her as best as I could, and send her on her way with a few "gentle" reminders. ;)
Just as she walked out of the door for school, I said a prayer for her and her class. I asked that God keep them all safe from... "them", the sick and twisted people that live just to hurt children. I prayed that they be surrounded by so many angels that they would be invisible to "them".
The day went by very slowly for me, but Anna did eventually come home. I asked her happily, after giving her a hug, how the day went. We sat down on the couch together to snuggle.
"Well, I didn't... It wasn't very much...'" she sputtered as she teared up. "I-," She began as she turned away from me in embarrassment.
"Anna, it's ok... calm down. You don't have to be embarrassed, you can tell me anything. Remember how many times I have told you the embarrassing things that have happened to me?" Anna nodded, slowly turning towards me as I put my arm around her. "You can always talk to mommy and daddy, no matter how embarrassing or upsetting it may be. Even if you are in big trouble, please always talk to us about it. OK?"
She nodded again. "I didn't have a very good time at the museum," she said as she choked back tears," I was home sick."
I breathed a sigh of relief. "It's OK, I think most kids are a bit nervous on their first field trip that far away from home. You didn't have fun at all?"
She settled in and relaxed against me,"No, not until we went outside to play on the museum play ground."
"That's OK," I said as I patted her," At least you had a little fun."
"Well, I had fun buying my mood ring too," she smiled up at me.
We sat for awhile , snuggling while watching the Food Network. I had a sudden realization that usually in our world being sensitive was viewed as having a weakness. How many times have we heard ourselves or someone else say to their child " Stop being such a baby"? "Stop being a drama queen" or "grow up"? I can't count how many times my own mother made me feel like I was less than human for crying or being sad over something she had said or done to me.
"You know Anna... feeling this way isn't a bad thing. I mean being sensitive or the fact that you were feeling home sick. It just means that you feel things deeply." I thought about all of the thousands of times she seemed to have overreacted, or played the "drama queen" over the span of her 7 years and smiled. There was no middle ground with this girl for the most part. She experienced things at the highest highs and the lowest lows, and I smiled again to myself.
I gave her another squeeze, "You are one of the strongest people I have ever met. You're smart, beautiful, funny... you're like a diamond. You know how a diamond has little cuts in it? Those are called facets. Each one of your facets- or the little things about you, including being sensitive- make up the whole you... a beautiful little diamond."
She looked up at me and lit up with such a brilliance that words fail to adequately describe it.
Being sensitive and feeling things deeply isn't anymore flawed than a diamond that is pink or canary yellow. Those diamonds are actually valued more for their rarity and color.
I choose to see my girl for the rare and priceless gem that she is.
Friday, April 25, 2008
What do you do when...
Your child develops an irrational and debilitating fear of something? Recently Emma has developed a fear of BUGS of any kind... even the tiniest bugs like gnats and ants. One day about 1 1/2 weeks ago she just freaked out while in the car and screamed like a victim in a horror movie. John almost wrecked the car it scared him so badly.
Four days ago she refused to do one of her favorite activities, side walk chalk, and shook violently at the sight of an ant. Later, she refused to move from a spot in the middle of the back yard because I made the mistake of telling her that she didn't need to be afraid, bugs were every where in the back yard (above ground and below) and the didn't and wouldn't hurt her. Later (after about 2 hours of her standing in one spot screaming) we convinced her to get in the sand box, into the nice NEW , clean sand. I was a few feet away when she shrieked and sobbed because of one ant in the sand box.
I don't know what happened, the only thing I can think of is that she had a bad dream or something but I can't seem to get a clear answer about it. I know I need/ we need to comfort her but I don't want to over do it (as in John and I have told her we will give her hugs but we refuse to carry her around in the back yard or hold her off the ground)... and I know that if I ignore her behavior it could foster feelings of abandonment and make things worse.
I have been wracking my brain to come up with things to make her feel like she is in control, and to show her that bugs are good and that it's OK to not like them but she doesn't have to be afraid of them.
Soooo, this is what I have come up with, I hope it works! Emma got some toy lizards for her birthday from Anna from Target, and they had some matching buggies on sale. My idea is to have her get used to bugs by playing with these, they basically are from David Kirk's Miss Spider/Sunny Patch.
Also, we bought her a magic pair of sunglasses in the right side of the picture below that have butterflies on them, and the lenses flip out to the sides. They are magic because bugs will see that she is friendly since the glasses have butterflies, and the bugs will decide to be very nice to Em and not hurt her. If they do fly on her, they are just there to give her a buggy kiss to say thank you for showing that she is ok with bugs.
If THAT doesn't work, we have also bought her a spray bottle that I will fill with "bug spray" (thanks for the idea Ash!) that will have water with a dash of febreeze for scent. She can spray the bugs if she gets scared while we are out, not to "kill" them but to remind them to be nice. ;)
I hope something works because I hate to see my baby shaking in terror because of an ant :(
Did you go through this ( irrational fears) with your child? How did you get them through this phase? Any help would be appreciated!
*photos are borrowed from Bug Safari*
Four days ago she refused to do one of her favorite activities, side walk chalk, and shook violently at the sight of an ant. Later, she refused to move from a spot in the middle of the back yard because I made the mistake of telling her that she didn't need to be afraid, bugs were every where in the back yard (above ground and below) and the didn't and wouldn't hurt her. Later (after about 2 hours of her standing in one spot screaming) we convinced her to get in the sand box, into the nice NEW , clean sand. I was a few feet away when she shrieked and sobbed because of one ant in the sand box.
I don't know what happened, the only thing I can think of is that she had a bad dream or something but I can't seem to get a clear answer about it. I know I need/ we need to comfort her but I don't want to over do it (as in John and I have told her we will give her hugs but we refuse to carry her around in the back yard or hold her off the ground)... and I know that if I ignore her behavior it could foster feelings of abandonment and make things worse.
I have been wracking my brain to come up with things to make her feel like she is in control, and to show her that bugs are good and that it's OK to not like them but she doesn't have to be afraid of them.
Soooo, this is what I have come up with, I hope it works! Emma got some toy lizards for her birthday from Anna from Target, and they had some matching buggies on sale. My idea is to have her get used to bugs by playing with these, they basically are from David Kirk's Miss Spider/Sunny Patch.
Also, we bought her a magic pair of sunglasses in the right side of the picture below that have butterflies on them, and the lenses flip out to the sides. They are magic because bugs will see that she is friendly since the glasses have butterflies, and the bugs will decide to be very nice to Em and not hurt her. If they do fly on her, they are just there to give her a buggy kiss to say thank you for showing that she is ok with bugs.
If THAT doesn't work, we have also bought her a spray bottle that I will fill with "bug spray" (thanks for the idea Ash!) that will have water with a dash of febreeze for scent. She can spray the bugs if she gets scared while we are out, not to "kill" them but to remind them to be nice. ;)
I hope something works because I hate to see my baby shaking in terror because of an ant :(
Did you go through this ( irrational fears) with your child? How did you get them through this phase? Any help would be appreciated!
*photos are borrowed from Bug Safari*
Monday, November 19, 2007
Have you ever had a friend...
That hurt you so much that you didn't want to talk to them ever again?
I had a friend (who lives 2000 miles away, and that I have been friends with for over 10 years) that had been having marital problems for over 6 years. There have been many, many times that we talked on the phone for hours before and after she started having problems. We have been such good friends that we at times have called each other best friend, and there have been times when we fought and didn't speak for 11 months.
Our relationship was very honest and we could talk about anything. We laughed and cried, we fought, we complained and bitched about our lives and all of that was OK. It was better than OK, she has been as close of a friend as my husband at times.
Over the last year, when her marriage was really in crisis, I had spent hours- willingly because I loved her- on the phone talking about her problems, supporting her decisions, giving advice when she asked. I had spent hours talking and consoling, and at times forgotten to make dinner for my kids (until Anna said she was starving). I spent hours telling my kids "not now I'm on the phone" because my friend lived so far away and was so busy working extra ours to save money for her impending separation, so I talked to her whenever she needed. She was so busy that the only time she ever seemed to call me was when she was driving somewhere.
Then one day, she told me that they had worked things out. Though I still worried about her, I was happy that she was happy and supported her decision because it's her life. Suddenly I was told that she was trying to cut out all the negative people in her life, and I noticed that she usually told me this shortly after I did our usual complaining that we do about things that are annoying us at the time... then she would tell me she was lost and had to get directions, or had another call, and that she would call me back.
And she never did.
This happened once, and though I was hurt, I thought"she is really busy, she'll call me back when she has a chance."
It happened a second time and I said to myself, "That is a weird coincidence. Hmmm, not sure what to think about that."
It happened a third time... so I stopped taking her calls when she finally called me back 3 weeks later.
That was almost 4 months ago, and she stopped calling after I decided not to send her daughter anything for her birthday. I figured she had realized that I was hurt and upset, then got mad that I didn't send her daughter anything. I figured our friendship was pretty much over since she thought I was all of a sudden to negative and she was cutting all of US out of her life.
I told my husband that I had a feeling that she would be calling the next time she needed something. Sure enough, she started calling again.
My problem besides the obvious is that I felt like we have been friends for so many years and the fact that now our friendship arrangement was no longer suitable to her, it was almost like my husband had suddenly told me that he couldn't stand the way I breathe. It hurt me deeply that we have been such close friends over the years that we accepted each others flaws, mourned with each other and even fought like sisters.
And then one day she tells me in so many words that I can't be in her life anymore because what I have offered her over the years (and she had offered back exactly) isn't good enough anymore. I'm too negative suddenly , when I haven't changed the way I have interacted with her as a friend. I'm not good enough.
The problem is that I don't even know if she understands what she has done. Over the years I have overlooked her shortcomings (and I wont list them since I don't know if she reads this blog anymore), and she has over looked mine. Now that her life was back in order and her husband wanted her again, I was no longer needed. It hurt me so much that I couldn't even talk to her about it.
But why talk to someone who obviously doesn't like or even love you anymore? Why waste my energy on someone who obviously feels like I'm inadequate, why put myself through that anymore?
Now, she is calling me again, just like I thought she would. Her husband has changed his mind and is wanting a divorce again, and now since I don't answer her calls- she sending me emails. She is telling people finally that they are separating, when before I was only one of 3 people that knew that her marriage was on the rocks. It's final now and she is sending out emails saying she is going to focus on herself and travel to see friends out of state.
Though I feel bad for her on a basic level, I have been so hurt that anger isn't even an issue anymore,I just don't care.
I feel like she dumped me and now that her dance card is empty, she wants me back to fill the void for her. On some level, I still love her as a friend and though we worked hard to over come our past arguments, I feel as though she attacked my character and told me I wasn't good enough.
If you know me even a little, I am a bit of a dork in so many ways, including social situations. I tend to lash out at people I don't very well if they anger me. The people that I know well and love... if they hurt me I tend to recede and become a hermit. I duck and cover. I know this has a lot to do with my childhood and not being able to have friends, to go out and socialize like a normal teen because I was pretty much locked up at home.
That's why I love blogging. I can socialize and met people, and in a way it's safer that way, but very sad.
I often think and wonder what is wrong with me that I cannot seem to make decent friends in real life, and ask my husband, "Isn't the common denominator me? Either I am attracting the wrong kind of friend because I put out a vibe that people can treat me like crap, or I am socially inept." I often ask my husband, "Am I over reacting?" and he will answer me honestly, and most of the time he will tell me no, that I am not overreacting.
Sometimes he does. And I get pissed. LOL! But I know he is right. Never once during all of this has he told me that I am overreacting.
Anyway, I sound like my friend. We are separating and I am boohooing to you guys. The only difference is that I am neglecting you guys because of NaNoWriMo. :)
BTW, please don't take it personally, I assure you that once I finish this stupid first draft that I will be back laughing with you, heckling you, and just generally being "all up in your business". I haven't visited but a few blogs because writers block is so depressing that even writing comments is mentally crippling. Sad? YES! Self inflicted? Absolutely. Lame? Probably.
Forgive me? Please?
Thanks for listening to me whine about the person who I used to consider my best friend... I feel bad for her , I really do. I just don't know if I am willing to let her kick me in the
I had a friend (who lives 2000 miles away, and that I have been friends with for over 10 years) that had been having marital problems for over 6 years. There have been many, many times that we talked on the phone for hours before and after she started having problems. We have been such good friends that we at times have called each other best friend, and there have been times when we fought and didn't speak for 11 months.
Our relationship was very honest and we could talk about anything. We laughed and cried, we fought, we complained and bitched about our lives and all of that was OK. It was better than OK, she has been as close of a friend as my husband at times.
Over the last year, when her marriage was really in crisis, I had spent hours- willingly because I loved her- on the phone talking about her problems, supporting her decisions, giving advice when she asked. I had spent hours talking and consoling, and at times forgotten to make dinner for my kids (until Anna said she was starving). I spent hours telling my kids "not now I'm on the phone" because my friend lived so far away and was so busy working extra ours to save money for her impending separation, so I talked to her whenever she needed. She was so busy that the only time she ever seemed to call me was when she was driving somewhere.
Then one day, she told me that they had worked things out. Though I still worried about her, I was happy that she was happy and supported her decision because it's her life. Suddenly I was told that she was trying to cut out all the negative people in her life, and I noticed that she usually told me this shortly after I did our usual complaining that we do about things that are annoying us at the time... then she would tell me she was lost and had to get directions, or had another call, and that she would call me back.
And she never did.
This happened once, and though I was hurt, I thought"she is really busy, she'll call me back when she has a chance."
It happened a second time and I said to myself, "That is a weird coincidence. Hmmm, not sure what to think about that."
It happened a third time... so I stopped taking her calls when she finally called me back 3 weeks later.
That was almost 4 months ago, and she stopped calling after I decided not to send her daughter anything for her birthday. I figured she had realized that I was hurt and upset, then got mad that I didn't send her daughter anything. I figured our friendship was pretty much over since she thought I was all of a sudden to negative and she was cutting all of US out of her life.
I told my husband that I had a feeling that she would be calling the next time she needed something. Sure enough, she started calling again.
My problem besides the obvious is that I felt like we have been friends for so many years and the fact that now our friendship arrangement was no longer suitable to her, it was almost like my husband had suddenly told me that he couldn't stand the way I breathe. It hurt me deeply that we have been such close friends over the years that we accepted each others flaws, mourned with each other and even fought like sisters.
And then one day she tells me in so many words that I can't be in her life anymore because what I have offered her over the years (and she had offered back exactly) isn't good enough anymore. I'm too negative suddenly , when I haven't changed the way I have interacted with her as a friend. I'm not good enough.
The problem is that I don't even know if she understands what she has done. Over the years I have overlooked her shortcomings (and I wont list them since I don't know if she reads this blog anymore), and she has over looked mine. Now that her life was back in order and her husband wanted her again, I was no longer needed. It hurt me so much that I couldn't even talk to her about it.
But why talk to someone who obviously doesn't like or even love you anymore? Why waste my energy on someone who obviously feels like I'm inadequate, why put myself through that anymore?
Now, she is calling me again, just like I thought she would. Her husband has changed his mind and is wanting a divorce again, and now since I don't answer her calls- she sending me emails. She is telling people finally that they are separating, when before I was only one of 3 people that knew that her marriage was on the rocks. It's final now and she is sending out emails saying she is going to focus on herself and travel to see friends out of state.
Though I feel bad for her on a basic level, I have been so hurt that anger isn't even an issue anymore,I just don't care.
I feel like she dumped me and now that her dance card is empty, she wants me back to fill the void for her. On some level, I still love her as a friend and though we worked hard to over come our past arguments, I feel as though she attacked my character and told me I wasn't good enough.
If you know me even a little, I am a bit of a dork in so many ways, including social situations. I tend to lash out at people I don't very well if they anger me. The people that I know well and love... if they hurt me I tend to recede and become a hermit. I duck and cover. I know this has a lot to do with my childhood and not being able to have friends, to go out and socialize like a normal teen because I was pretty much locked up at home.
That's why I love blogging. I can socialize and met people, and in a way it's safer that way, but very sad.
I often think and wonder what is wrong with me that I cannot seem to make decent friends in real life, and ask my husband, "Isn't the common denominator me? Either I am attracting the wrong kind of friend because I put out a vibe that people can treat me like crap, or I am socially inept." I often ask my husband, "Am I over reacting?" and he will answer me honestly, and most of the time he will tell me no, that I am not overreacting.
Sometimes he does. And I get pissed. LOL! But I know he is right. Never once during all of this has he told me that I am overreacting.
Anyway, I sound like my friend. We are separating and I am boohooing to you guys. The only difference is that I am neglecting you guys because of NaNoWriMo. :)
BTW, please don't take it personally, I assure you that once I finish this stupid first draft that I will be back laughing with you, heckling you, and just generally being "all up in your business". I haven't visited but a few blogs because writers block is so depressing that even writing comments is mentally crippling. Sad? YES! Self inflicted? Absolutely. Lame? Probably.
Forgive me? Please?
Thanks for listening to me whine about the person who I used to consider my best friend... I feel bad for her , I really do. I just don't know if I am willing to let her kick me in the
Friday, September 28, 2007
What to do when your 6 year old child says "I hate you"
I have always known that Anna is a bit ahead of the curve in maturity and brain cells. Bearing that in mind I have also always known that eventually and inevitably the day would come when she said those dreaded words.
I hate you.
I wasn't expecting the day to be today, and I wasn't expecting her to be the ripe age of 6 1/2. I certainly did expect those words to be hurled at me from the throws of prepubescence, and I was even more certain that they would pop up during some premenstrual debacle.
Those are words that I know well. Too well. I cannot tell you how many times those words were said to me in anger as a child. I think what hurt the most is when those words were handed to me with apathy.
Anna said that she hated me, then told me that everything was my fault... and after that I can honestly say that I don't remember much. I told her she was to stay in her room and not come out until it was clean and that I did not want to talk to her.
I went down stairs in a haze. I walked in circles until I was crushed under the pressure and weight of those 3 words. I cried. I can honestly say that it grieves me.
So I did what I always do when furious or hurt, I cleaned. After I worked offf a little grief I decided to google 'what to do when your 6 year old child says "I hate you"'. I read various sites that stated that at this age they are not aware of the meaning of those words and say them because they are angry, but don't mean them. Sure, I know that younger children say these things to their parents, and I know that hypothetically they don't mean it. You can't say that about Anna. She's very intelligent. Though I know she may not realize the consequences of this act I can tell you that she meant them with every fiber, even for a brief moment.
This site said:
Even though I agree with the last part of the statement above, I do not feel it is OK to "just let it go". Not at Anna's age anyway, no matter how literal she is she is also very logical and emotionally driven. I feel at this age is entirely appropriate for Anna to understand the kind of fallout that can occur in this situation. I sat at my computer thinking about what I would say to her. On one hand I could gloss it over " and not dwell on it, as the article above insinuates, as well as all of the other sites I visited. On another I could explain how horrendously this has affected me at the risk of making her feel guilty, in order for her to understand how devastating this can be for a loved one; and for her to understand that she must never do this again.
Then I read this blog post... THANK GOD. Finally something that addresses the state of the mature child and what it means to be 6 years old. Shauna, the blog author quotes from a book that helped her immensely :
Anna eventually came downstairs about an hour after the incident and apologized for saying those words and that she didn't mean them anymore. I sat there with my mouth open for a moment, trying to compose my thoughts. She didn't mean it anymore.
I explained to her that it hurts me that she felt that way at all, even if it was just for a moment. I said that hate was a very strong word, and though I was glad she was sorry , it's hard to take that word back. I also said that hate is the strongest negative word you can say to someone you love, and when you say it- even though you will probably be sorry later- it stays with a person.
I explained that though I have been angry with her many times, I have never hated her and would never EVER say that to her. I explained that telling someone that you hate them and that you wish that they had never been born are the worst things yo could say to someone you love or care about. I told her that my mother told me those things more times than I can remember, and it still hurts to this day.
I explained that those words will stay with me and in my heart forever... and that the reason why I was telling her this was for her to understand and learn from this situation.
I want her to learn that it's NEVER OK to tell someone you hate them, especially not the people you love. That it's OK to tell me she is angry with me, and I will acknowledge her feelings. It's OK to express anger, hurt and frustration. I respect her as a person, I respect her feelings.
I explained all of this and the fact that those words were unacceptable. She sobbed on my shoulder. We hugged and I told her I loved her, and she held on to me for what seemed like dear life for over 10 minutes.
My heart hurts a little less and I am hoping that over time that abyss will close and heal itself to the tiniest of fractures.
I know the joys will out number the sorrows. I have faith that the brilliance of her love and understanding will fill those little cracks with so much light that they will be unseen to the naked eye. Hopefully no one will know they are there but me.
I hate you.
I wasn't expecting the day to be today, and I wasn't expecting her to be the ripe age of 6 1/2. I certainly did expect those words to be hurled at me from the throws of prepubescence, and I was even more certain that they would pop up during some premenstrual debacle.
Those are words that I know well. Too well. I cannot tell you how many times those words were said to me in anger as a child. I think what hurt the most is when those words were handed to me with apathy.
Anna said that she hated me, then told me that everything was my fault... and after that I can honestly say that I don't remember much. I told her she was to stay in her room and not come out until it was clean and that I did not want to talk to her.
I went down stairs in a haze. I walked in circles until I was crushed under the pressure and weight of those 3 words. I cried. I can honestly say that it grieves me.
So I did what I always do when furious or hurt, I cleaned. After I worked offf a little grief I decided to google 'what to do when your 6 year old child says "I hate you"'. I read various sites that stated that at this age they are not aware of the meaning of those words and say them because they are angry, but don't mean them. Sure, I know that younger children say these things to their parents, and I know that hypothetically they don't mean it. You can't say that about Anna. She's very intelligent. Though I know she may not realize the consequences of this act I can tell you that she meant them with every fiber, even for a brief moment.
This site said:
The unanimous chorus from experts: Don't take it personally. Kids say these things when they're frustrated or angry. It doesn't mean you're a bad parent. Of course, distancing yourself when your kid seems to be dissing your mothering skills isn't easy, but letting your child think that you're all too happy to get rid of him -- or worse, that you hate him, too -- isn't okay. Since the under-9 set are literal thinkers, they won't detect the reverse psychology at work, and you might end up undermining your child's trust...
...Easier said than done, of course, but if you're upset, wait until you've calmed down to say anything. "When you get emotional, you lose 50 IQ points," says Ray Levy. "But later on you can say, 'It hurts my feelings when you tell me you hate me.' Usually when kids are calm, they're pretty remorseful."
Even though I agree with the last part of the statement above, I do not feel it is OK to "just let it go". Not at Anna's age anyway, no matter how literal she is she is also very logical and emotionally driven. I feel at this age is entirely appropriate for Anna to understand the kind of fallout that can occur in this situation. I sat at my computer thinking about what I would say to her. On one hand I could gloss it over " and not dwell on it, as the article above insinuates, as well as all of the other sites I visited. On another I could explain how horrendously this has affected me at the risk of making her feel guilty, in order for her to understand how devastating this can be for a loved one; and for her to understand that she must never do this again.
Then I read this blog post... THANK GOD. Finally something that addresses the state of the mature child and what it means to be 6 years old. Shauna, the blog author quotes from a book that helped her immensely :
The six-year-old is a complex child, entirely different from the five-year-old.Though many of the changes are for the good -- Six is growing more mature, more independent, more daring and adventurous -- this is not necessarily an easy time for the little girl or boy. Relationships with mothers are troubled -- most of the time Six adores mother, but whenever things go wrong, it's her fault. It used to be, at Five, that she was the center of the child's universe; now, the child is the center of his own universe.Yes, exactly. OK. I value my children's opinions. I expect them to be able to tell me what that think and feel. All I'm asking is for a little courtesy. I want so much for my kids to have what I didn't which is an opinion... but I need to be able to draw the line at hurt and disrespect , and I need to be able to tell them that it's not OK.
Anna eventually came downstairs about an hour after the incident and apologized for saying those words and that she didn't mean them anymore. I sat there with my mouth open for a moment, trying to compose my thoughts. She didn't mean it anymore.
I explained to her that it hurts me that she felt that way at all, even if it was just for a moment. I said that hate was a very strong word, and though I was glad she was sorry , it's hard to take that word back. I also said that hate is the strongest negative word you can say to someone you love, and when you say it- even though you will probably be sorry later- it stays with a person.
I explained that though I have been angry with her many times, I have never hated her and would never EVER say that to her. I explained that telling someone that you hate them and that you wish that they had never been born are the worst things yo could say to someone you love or care about. I told her that my mother told me those things more times than I can remember, and it still hurts to this day.
I explained that those words will stay with me and in my heart forever... and that the reason why I was telling her this was for her to understand and learn from this situation.
I want her to learn that it's NEVER OK to tell someone you hate them, especially not the people you love. That it's OK to tell me she is angry with me, and I will acknowledge her feelings. It's OK to express anger, hurt and frustration. I respect her as a person, I respect her feelings.
I explained all of this and the fact that those words were unacceptable. She sobbed on my shoulder. We hugged and I told her I loved her, and she held on to me for what seemed like dear life for over 10 minutes.
My heart hurts a little less and I am hoping that over time that abyss will close and heal itself to the tiniest of fractures.
I know the joys will out number the sorrows. I have faith that the brilliance of her love and understanding will fill those little cracks with so much light that they will be unseen to the naked eye. Hopefully no one will know they are there but me.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Devils and angels on my shoulder, Monkeys on my back
Yesterday I had a talk with Anna because our day was rolling downhill very quickly. I sat Anna down and told her that I am very tired of having to nag her about the very same things every day, and that I get very grumpy because I have to say the same things every day. BUT then I realized that it was one particular incident that I was really annoyed with, and the other things that may or may not grate my nerves on a less trying day were piling up on my very last nerve.
It's called guilt, right?
I found her upstairs and apologized for being so cranky. I explained what had happened- which was that I was really annoyed with the first thing, then everything else really got on my nerves. It wasn't her fault that I was so grumpy, and that I realized I was really just still upset from the first incident.
I explained that I understand that it can be frustrating because we have so many rules, but then I asked her:
"Don't you ever get that feeling or hear that little voice that tells you 'you better not do that!'?"
"Well, sometimes it's like in those TV shows where you have a good angel on on shoulder and a bad one on the other... and one of the says 'You should-', and that's all I hear." She smiles at me, obviously happy with herself for painting such a vivid example of the trials of a 6 year old.
To which I sat and stared in disbelief, but with a wry smile... and then I said, "Come on, give me a break... somebody's been watching too many goofy kid's shows. Look, you can't tell me that you don't listen to that voice inside of you that tells you right from wrong. We all have that voice, even mom and dad. And - if you don't like having a grumpy mommy then you have to help me out by following the rules so that I don't have to get mad because I have to repeat the same rules everyday."
I rounded the conversation of by telling her that if you love someone, you worry if whether or not you have hurt their feelings- and that was why I had come up to talk to her. Also though, you worry if you are doing the same wrong things over and over and are making them upset.
Sometimes I tell John that I am worried that I am like my mother, and in the past he has helped me realize that the crucial difference between my mother and I is the fact that I even care whether or not my children are hurting... that and I don't beat the crud out of them.
I do care about my girls and I DO want them to have a better childhood than me, and on the days when I wonder if I am like that monster even just a little bit... well, I work that much harder at knocking the devil off my shoulder and being accountable.
One day I hope I can share with my daughters that it wasn't all about me teaching them about life. They have taught me a thing or two. Each of us have our angels and devils perched on our shoulders, I guess it's all in how we handle them, literally.
It's called guilt, right?
I found her upstairs and apologized for being so cranky. I explained what had happened- which was that I was really annoyed with the first thing, then everything else really got on my nerves. It wasn't her fault that I was so grumpy, and that I realized I was really just still upset from the first incident.
I explained that I understand that it can be frustrating because we have so many rules, but then I asked her:
"Don't you ever get that feeling or hear that little voice that tells you 'you better not do that!'?"
"Well, sometimes it's like in those TV shows where you have a good angel on on shoulder and a bad one on the other... and one of the says 'You should-', and that's all I hear." She smiles at me, obviously happy with herself for painting such a vivid example of the trials of a 6 year old.
To which I sat and stared in disbelief, but with a wry smile... and then I said, "Come on, give me a break... somebody's been watching too many goofy kid's shows. Look, you can't tell me that you don't listen to that voice inside of you that tells you right from wrong. We all have that voice, even mom and dad. And - if you don't like having a grumpy mommy then you have to help me out by following the rules so that I don't have to get mad because I have to repeat the same rules everyday."
I rounded the conversation of by telling her that if you love someone, you worry if whether or not you have hurt their feelings- and that was why I had come up to talk to her. Also though, you worry if you are doing the same wrong things over and over and are making them upset.
Sometimes I tell John that I am worried that I am like my mother, and in the past he has helped me realize that the crucial difference between my mother and I is the fact that I even care whether or not my children are hurting... that and I don't beat the crud out of them.
I do care about my girls and I DO want them to have a better childhood than me, and on the days when I wonder if I am like that monster even just a little bit... well, I work that much harder at knocking the devil off my shoulder and being accountable.
One day I hope I can share with my daughters that it wasn't all about me teaching them about life. They have taught me a thing or two. Each of us have our angels and devils perched on our shoulders, I guess it's all in how we handle them, literally.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Me yesterday: Nobody gets breakfast until mommy's coffee starts to brew. *yawn*
John: Oh, is that right?
Me: Oh yeee-ahhhh, I have priorities, ya know. This trip (to Reno August 16th! yeeehaw!) should be interesting because I don't know how or when when I will reach caffination each day. *Thinks to self about the possibility of sucking on a tea bag each morning, or snorting coffee grounds if need be*
John nods in agreement but then says: Caffination? I don't even know what that is. Is that even a word?
John: Oh, is that right?
Me: Oh yeee-ahhhh, I have priorities, ya know. This trip (to Reno August 16th! yeeehaw!) should be interesting because I don't know how or when when I will reach caffination each day. *Thinks to self about the possibility of sucking on a tea bag each morning, or snorting coffee grounds if need be*
John nods in agreement but then says: Caffination? I don't even know what that is. Is that even a word?
Me: Sheeeee-yah *rolls eyes*, it's a word-
Caffination- the moment in which caffeine enters one's bloodstream.
Caffination- the moment in which caffeine enters one's bloodstream.
OR
The moment in which one reaches their "Coffee Zen".
The moment in which one reaches their "Coffee Zen".
John: *snort and a smirk* Ummmmhmmmm....
Hello, my name is Mary... and I'm a Caff head.
Hello, my name is Mary... and I'm a Caff head.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
The meaning of life? It's in the cards.
Yesterday Anna and I played her Littlest Pet Shop game, which involves moving around the board to collect one each of 4 colored chips, then making it home before the other person. If you land on a spot with monkey business (a picture of toy monkeys), you get to take one chip away from an opponent if you need one of the colors they have.
Each time Anna approached the monkey business, she got giggly and squirmy and told me that she WOULD take one of my pieces. Then, if she had more chips than me she would gloat.
"That's not good sportsmanship, honey," I told her.
Anna made the universal and exaggerated "Oooooooooh" face, complete with raised eyebrows. "I didn't know that, sorry."
We are still working on her not doing the end zone dance every time she wins a game, but she is learning.
I proceeded to win 3 out of 3 games much to her disappointment. I asked her if she wanted to play one more time, because she still had a chance to win one. "No way , mom," She said matter of fact, with her arms crossed, then she picked up a handful of game pieces and chucked them in my general vicinity.
"Anna, again- bad sportsmanship. Help me clean this up please."
And she did. Surprisingly, after only a few minutes of sulking she was up for the challenge of a new game. I explained that on rainy days as a child- or when our mother was behaving like a beast and nothing we did was good enough so as punishment we had to stay inside, which of course I didn't tell her- my brothers and I played a game called Kings On The Corner.
We really enjoyed playing; Anna enjoyed learning and I enjoyed watching her pick up the game without a hitch. Of course I won, but not because I didn't help her play, it just worked out that way. Despite losing AGAIN, she admitted it was a lot of fun and she wanted to play again one day with me , and maybe even her dad.
A little while later while I washing the dishes, she came in and said, "You know mom, it's OK to lose sometimes... it's not like it's going to damage your life or anything."
I'm so glad that by not letting her win all the time that I am teaching her that losing and failure are a normal part of life. Despite losing 4 games within an hour, she has learned that a little thing like that isn't going to stop her from enjoying these thing in the future. She's learned to suck it up and to pick up the pieces, literally. After a brief mourning period , of course.
Very profound, coming from a 6 year old I think. And I thought I was teaching her something. ;)
Each time Anna approached the monkey business, she got giggly and squirmy and told me that she WOULD take one of my pieces. Then, if she had more chips than me she would gloat.
"That's not good sportsmanship, honey," I told her.
Anna made the universal and exaggerated "Oooooooooh" face, complete with raised eyebrows. "I didn't know that, sorry."
We are still working on her not doing the end zone dance every time she wins a game, but she is learning.
I proceeded to win 3 out of 3 games much to her disappointment. I asked her if she wanted to play one more time, because she still had a chance to win one. "No way , mom," She said matter of fact, with her arms crossed, then she picked up a handful of game pieces and chucked them in my general vicinity.
"Anna, again- bad sportsmanship. Help me clean this up please."
And she did. Surprisingly, after only a few minutes of sulking she was up for the challenge of a new game. I explained that on rainy days as a child- or when our mother was behaving like a beast and nothing we did was good enough so as punishment we had to stay inside, which of course I didn't tell her- my brothers and I played a game called Kings On The Corner.
We really enjoyed playing; Anna enjoyed learning and I enjoyed watching her pick up the game without a hitch. Of course I won, but not because I didn't help her play, it just worked out that way. Despite losing AGAIN, she admitted it was a lot of fun and she wanted to play again one day with me , and maybe even her dad.
A little while later while I washing the dishes, she came in and said, "You know mom, it's OK to lose sometimes... it's not like it's going to damage your life or anything."
I'm so glad that by not letting her win all the time that I am teaching her that losing and failure are a normal part of life. Despite losing 4 games within an hour, she has learned that a little thing like that isn't going to stop her from enjoying these thing in the future. She's learned to suck it up and to pick up the pieces, literally. After a brief mourning period , of course.
Very profound, coming from a 6 year old I think. And I thought I was teaching her something. ;)
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